T1B

"Honey, you know your prostate's been acting up like the bejeezus lately. Most nights, you can barely clear your throat without squirting me like I'm some hootchie in a rap video. Why do you think we have plastic sheets, you leaky feeb?"

"Baby, it's just a ride."

"'Just a ride,' Sam?? Look, Rebel Yell, the last time you took off on that contraption you came home with the crabs, you couldn't shit for a week, you had no feeling in your nuts and you complained that your eyeballs just wouldn't stop vibrating. And for what? All you took were pictures of grain silos, nine year old girls and rusty tractors.

Speaking of which, what was with all those pictures from that elementary school, anyway? I got a call the other day from someone named Rack Fu, saying he'd received seventeen different anonymous complaints about you hanging around Nick Saban Elementary, that you wouldn't stop hassling all the fourth grade girls."

Sam growled and said, "Aww, fuck 'em. It was just a misunderstanding. They said they'd wear the thigh highs, but then the little bitches changed their minds. I had to remind 'em, a deal's a deal."

He looked at her, challenging her.

She wasn't having any of it...

"Yeah, whatever. Oh, and by the way, it's really fucking gay, the way you refer to yourself as 'Rebel Yell,' anytime you put on chaps."

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

She looked at him, exasperated. Poking him in the chest, she said, "Yeah, well, maybe what this man's gotta do is remember to wear underwear next time. Or, and here's a novel idea: pants! How 'bout next time you at least throw on some pants beneath those faggy chaps?"

"Hey, what can I say? Chicks dig the long ball."

"I don't think they're referring to ol' Itchy & Scratchy, hanging down to your knees. Sam, your balls are starting to look like a really sad turkey. Put some pants on."

"You know what, woman? I've had just about enough of your lip. The weather is warming up and I think it's time for Mason Dixon and I to spend some more quality time together. Go pack me some sammiches, and my camera. It's time I got to road trippin'..."

Sam began his log...

Day 1...

This is me and my trusty steed, Mason Dixon, out back, getting ready to hit it. This ol' girl and I have covered a lot of miles together, and lord willin' and the creek don't rise, she and I will be able to come visit all y'all this trip...



On our way out, I passed Bear, my faithful pooch, taking a nap by our local toxic waste dump. Seems every time I go by there, ol' Bear's there napping, just like that. Lazy pooch must love nappin' there. He hasn't budged from that spot in 'bout a week...



I started out, heading east. Thought I'd stop in on my pal shutyomouth. He said he'd probably be in the middle of shooting some sort of music video.

Here's Spray. Man, he's one happy dude. Great guy. Totally makes you feel welcome in his home...



'Spray and the boys were taking a break from shooting, so they decided to go outside and play a little of what they called "Georgia Soccer"...

http://m90.org/video/36451/Coalition_so ... ccer_ball/

'Spray then showed me the video he'd been working on...



I felt it was time to be heading out, especially when 'Spray brought me out back. He wanted to show me his enormous trampoline, which was okay, I guess, but when he disappeared into the house and came running back out carrying an industrial sized vat of bean dip and a half empty box of Depends I knew it was time to beat a hasty retreat.

Explaining to 'Spray that I had an appointment with my proctologist, 'Spray instantly empathized. He hugged me and said, "Go in peace, brother. Enjoy."

Weird guy. Nice guy. Weird guy.

Heading north, I noticed how beautiful Atlanta really is...







Such great people, and everything smelled so good.

About this time, my ass was really beginning to chafe, I could feel my asshole was beginning to turtle and my bladder was rioting, so I pulled into a rest stop.

It could've been a little tidier inside, but I really had to go, so wtf. As I was sitting there, doing my business, I noticed these large holes cut into each side wall. I couldn't help but look and I noticed some guy in the next stall. He was kneeling down, peering through a hole in his stall's wall.

At least, I think he was peering into the hole. It was hard to tell, 'cause his head was moving so much.

He sure was making a lot of noise, too.

Anyway, I finished my business and I was washing my hands at the sink when the stall door opened.

"Fubu!" I exclaimed, shocked to run into someone I knew. Whowoulddathunkit, running into Fubu like that!

Kind of a dick, though. Once he saw it was me he didn't even say hello. He just up and ran out of there. A lime green Impala pulled up, and it was blasting a ton of bass. The door swung open and Fubu piled inside, and they drove off, tires squealing.

I think I heard Fubu cry out in pain, but I couldn't be sure.

I just know he was kind of a dick.

Heading back out, I pointed Mason Dixon north, thinking I'd head up to Maryland. I wanted to go see Ana, and Salad Tosser.

Here is a cool pic of Ana and ST, horsing around together, after dinner...



Ana's a really nice girl. Hospitable, too! She took me on a tour of their house, even stopping to show me their game room...







I got kinda tired though of ST's constant whimpering. Ana offered to let me stay the night; in fact, she insisted. No, she demanded, and I think I pissed myself a little.

I told her I'd already booked a room, but thanks for the offer.

Later that night, as I was riding down the highway, I had a weird feeling about those two. They seemed happy, but something about them just seemed a little bit left of center.

Anyway, all I knew was I couldnt wait for my head to hit the pillow...

So, that's Day 1 of my trip.

I think I'll ride up to Pittsburgh tomorrow, maybe stop in on Dave. If time allows, who knows, how far is Michigan from Pittsburgh? Kinda like to drop in on Mgo, too...

Day 2...

I woke up refreshed, and I headed down to the local diner, stopping first to pick up a newspaper. I'd passed the diner coming in last night, and I was a little hungry, so I thought I'd start my day off with my usual light breakfast...



The waitress who later found me said I must've passed out. She heard a groan, some splashing sounds, some more groans, and then a crash. It was coming from the men's room. She said she rushed in and found me lying there in a fetal position, next to the toilet.

"Toldja that was kind of a big sandwich, but you wouldn't listen to me," she said, admonishing me with a wry giggle.

I managed to talk her out of calling for the paramedics, and she helped me back to my seat. Thinking it'd be a good idea for me to sit and rest a spell, I opened up my newspaper.

The headline read...

The Crew Strkes Again!

Dateline-Pittsburgh, Pa

Local citizens terrorized, in latest attack by notorious street gang.

Violence erupted today in downtown Pittsburgh, when a group of effete street thugs attacked a school bus full of blind Asian middle schoolers.

Led by their puka shell necklace wearing leader, the gang known as The Crew stomped ass and vented their rage, while onlookers looked on in stunned silence and utter contempt.

"What a raging bunch of fags, especially the pop collared one in the pink shirt, the fattest one," said a woman who wished to remain anonymous.

"That one guy, the skinny little one with all the hair product, he was getting all he could handle from this one little girl, but then the psycho in the pink shirt cheap shotted her! He came up behind her and kicked her in the head, knocking her out cold.

Swear to god, if my hands weren't full with these mocha fraps, I woulda been all over that big queer."

Police have issued an APB for these jackbooted thugs, and they caution the local citizenry not to try to take matters into their own hands.

"Vigilantism will not be tolerated," said Pittsburgh Police Chief, Captain Jack Lambert.

"It won't be prosecuted either," he added with a smirk.

No arrests have yet been made, but authorities are confident that The Crew will soon be caught and brought to justice.

Said one man, "They won't evade capture for long. Everybody hates those guys. They're total pansies, and they smell like Mexican ass. Somebody's bound to rat 'em out to the police."

Finishing my paper, I was about to head on out when my breakfast decided that no, I wasn't.

Two hours later, light headed, and newly Born Again, I was back on the road.

Pulling into PSU's neighborhood, I noticed a large crowd had gathered at the local park. People were cheering, and shouting, "Get 'em! Kill 'em! Skull fuck 'em!"

Uncouth people, those Pittsburghers.

I stood atop a bench to see what all the commotion was about, and then I had to laugh. The scene taking place there in that park, well, let's just say it looked a lot like this...



smackaholic had driven down to Pittsburgh, unwilling to let Dave have all the fun.

Together the two of them toyed with The Crew, who were being spurred on by their fancy leader.

Eventually, it came down to PSU vs Douchebag, and that's when Dave brought out the acetylene torch.

When it was all over, I took this final shot of Douchebag and The Crew...



...which ended up appearing beneath the headline, "The Crew Gets Toasted," in the Pittsburgh Gazette.

Schools were let out that day. Banks closed. Women were impregnated.

The Crew were no more, and a grateful nation...well, they yawned, really.

Besides the occasional random attack on blind Vietnamese girls The Crew never really did amount to much.

When the day was won I shook Dave's hand and he said, "It's off to get shitfaced, my good man! There are sluts to be had and suds to be downed!"

He took me to the local Slutatorium, where we immediately ran into these girls...







He said to me, "You can have the one on the left. I'll meet you back here in eleven minutes. Good luck, and diver down!"

I said, "I don't think they're into the cock."

"Nonsense," he said. "It just needs to be the right cock."

Dave was a gregarious, popular sort. Whether it was immolating The Crew, banging lesbian skanks or forgetting to do laundry that month, he just reeks of being a man's man.

He could be my wingman, anytime.

:swoon:

Eventually, It was time to head out. I wanted to get to Detroit, to visit Mgo...

On the way there though I went through Cleveland, stopping in to see 88.

I took some Cleveland pics...







I gotta say, Cleveland wasn't as pretty as Atlanta.

But then I pulled up to 88's house. I can see why he has a problem with Obama. Dave has a really nice house...



...but it was obvious he was really busy. Entertaining guests, apparently. I didn't want to bug him, so I saddled back up and headed west, to Mgo's place.

A few hours later I arrived in Detroit. I had to snap a few shots...







Mgo was really cool, but maybe a little bit excitable.

We went out to get some wings and Mgo ordered up a pitcher of beer. A few minutes later the waitress came strolling by, and I managed to snap this pic of Mgo, asking her about the whereabouts of his beer...



"WHERE IN THE FUCK IS MY BEER???"

The waitress was nonplussed. Mgo would not be deterred...



"YOU STUPID WHORE, QUIT TROLLING FOR COCK AND GET ME MY GODDAMN BEER!!"

As we were being gently removed from the premises, Mgo turned to me and said, "She was pretty cute, huh? Think she'll go out with me?"

Mgo invited me to crash that night at his pad, where I met his roommate.

"Just call him Ogre, we all do," Mgo said.

Interesting dude...



The next morning, I woke up in a puddle of urine. Ogre's, as it turned out.

"Shit happens a lot, but he always springs for beer, so what can you do?" Mgo said.

As I was firing up Mason Dixon, Mgo shook my hand and wished me good luck, telling me to say hey to Dins...

Day 2 was great, but I really wasn't looking forward to the next couple of days. Crossing the Upper Midwest ain't my idea of fun.

I couldn't wait to get to my next destination, the U&L...

Rack it.

Crossing the upper midwest sucks.....in a 4 cylinder house. I tried it a few summers back. Fuggin' headwinds the whole way. I was lucky to see 50 mph. I think the mason dixon will handle it no problem though. What's that got in it, btw? Looks like a RR merlin.

Well done for a SuC....but the question that just won't go away is.....How in the HELL did you survive NOT posting in here for those years........

Seer, the only time I found it difficult was during CF season, especially late in the season. Otherwise, it wasn't that difficult.

Awesome! Post of the Year material.

Excellent.

btw, this part isn't too far off

"YOU STUPID WHORE, QUIT TROLLING FOR COCK AND GET ME MY GODDAMN BEER!!"

Days 3 and 4...

Not much to say here, as I was all by my lonesome, traveling across the upper Great Plains region. It was cold as fuck, and bugs the size of pterodactyls turned my beard into a crunchy liquid fondue.

Montana was pretty sweet. I took some pics. I don't know about you, but I thought it was really cool, the way Montana was in the middle of summer, fall and winter, all at the same time!

Never seen nuthin' like it before...









Of course, being Injun Territory, I also took some pics of the local natives...







Pretty much, the usual stuff...

So, I was riding along, just minding my own business, when I pulled over to take a leak. Up to that point I'd just been pissing in the wind, and why not? Assless chaps, I'm out in the middle of nowhere, and fuck, I'd forgotten to bring my CamelBack and it's thirsty business, riding across Montana!

Anyway, there I was, just watering the lawn, when from the corner of my eye I spied this...



After treating myself to a nice roadside repast of wild mushrooms I then hopped back on my steed, continuing on my journey westward.

Weird.

Whereas up to that point it'd been the usual rolling fields of flowers, sweeping landscapes and endlessly starry nights, suddenly Montana was beginning to seem sorta, well, different looking to me...







Even the next random native American I encountered looked a little odd to me...



Weird state, Montana.

Eventually, though, I'd managed to meander all the way to the U&L...











Nice place. Much prettier than Detroit. I was driving all through the U&L, trying to find Dins. He'd given me his address, but there must've been some mistake.

See, when I pulled up to his house, it wasn't a house at all. It was more like a big condo complex.

He had an awful lot of roommates, too!



Dins told me to come back, at midnight. He said to meet him by a drainage ditch, a couple hundred yards outside the big fence.

It was the strangest thing. Even though he had on a perfectly good blue shirt and clean pants he asked me if I could maybe bring him an extra pair of clean clothes, too.

I said okay.

So, there I was, a couple minutes after midnight, sitting outside this big apartment complex. Man, I've never seen an apartment complex that was so big on their neighborhood watch program. With all the big lights and the tall, razor wired fence and all those nice guards with rifles watching over things, wooo, I bet Dins and all the other renters there sure felt safe!

So, I'm sitting there, picking locusts out of my teeth, when suddenly I see Dins climbing out of that drainage ditch!

Holy fuck! Gawd, did he smell like shit!

"Of course I smell like shit, you fucking idiot. I'm covered in it," he said.

I thought that was pretty rude.

Dins then stripped down, which I thought was even more rude. I told him I'm not letting any naked stinky people ride with me.

Dins jumped in a nearby stream, where he rolled around for a bit.

"Didja bring those clothes I toldja to bring?"

Luckily, I had. I threw them to him and he put 'em on.

Dins then explained to me that there'd been some sort of misunderstanding between himself and the state of Oregon. He said it involved non paid taxes, or automatic weapons fire inside a Quiznos, or suitcases full of pot, or smuggling Albanian teen beauty queens across state lines.

Something like that. He explained it, and at the time it sounded perfectly reasonable to me, but I don't quite remember.

Then again, I was still sorta buzzing from those 'shrooms.

In any case, he said he'd cleared it all up and now he was good to go. He said his landlord was a big stickler on "paperwork" and "bureaucratic red tape" and that's why he didn't just walk out the main gate, to meet me.

Pleasantries exchanged, we headed off. I heard sirens, and dogs barking, but Dins said his apartment complex was just playing their usual Wednesday night game of Hide & Seek, and to ignore it.

"Let's go to my main pad," he said, and we headed off into the Portland night.

"Here we are," he said, as we pulled up to his house. Cool house. Kinda Trick or Treaty...



It was beginning to get light out, and Dins said he needed to get some shut eye.

"Whatever you do, don't wake me up for awhile," he said, and then he took off.

Having nothing better to do, I shot some pics of the nicknacks around the house...







...including a cute picture of Dins's girlfriend, sleeping...



Dins later told me, "She ain't my girlfriend, she's my sister, and she's a screaming fuggen dyke. Forget about her. She hardly ever puts out for me anymore."

That night, Dins took me to his favorite club. There were amazing looking women everywhere, but Dins was striking out, left and right.

Mercifully for Dins, closing time finally arrived. I snapped this shot of Dins, with his catch for the evening...



Later that evening, after he'd sent that diseased manatee packing, Dins was showing me his latest project. It seems Dins had been scouring the interwebs, looking for a good mail order bride. He told me what he was really looking for. He said he had a vision, a vision of what his perfect bride would look like on her wedding day, walking down the aisle...

He then showed me his finalists...



"Ukrainian, which is good. Too stupid looking, though. I know I'd just end up killing her and dumping her in the river," he said.

Then he showed me this one...



"Czech, which is even better, but she's just too goddamn perfectly hot. I just know we'd be at Home Depot or something, and she'd look at some beaner herding the shopping carts. I'd be forced to stab her in the neck with a Makita. I'm so fucking sick of everything always ending that way."

Then he crossed his arms and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. With a smug smile he showed me this one...



"Winner, winner, chicken dinner!" he crowed.

He even fuggen touched himself.

"Dude, you're not PSU. Don't touch yourself," I said.

He stopped, at least momentarily, and he said, "Sorry, man, I was just picturing her like that, with a big ass wooden spoon, making me pudding."

Dins's priapism was not to be denied, and I wasn't going to allow myself to be a party to it.

"Hey, sorry you suddenly need to tear ass on outta here. Where you headed next?" he said, his grip tightening, his face turning purple.

"I'm thinking, oh, I dunno, maybe the Bay Area," I said, firing up the ol' chopcycle...

Wow...just...

Day 6...

The Bay Area...

...m2.

m2 never gave me an address. On a scratchy sounding cell phone he gave me a riddle and then he sang, totally gay, "Just call my naaaame, and I'llll be therrrre."

Okay, since I rolled into town during a weekday, I figured I'd try to catch him at work. I asked around, inquiring as to where would be the most likely place in the city to locate a shop that makes windchimes?

Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE agreed on where I should go. I went there, and I took this shot...



I hadn't eaten yet, so I made my first stop a burger joint.

The waiter greeted me, coming all the way out by my bike!

"Nice chaps," he said.

"Must be into motorcycling himself," I thought to myself.

"Nice cock," he then added, his lusting glance betraying the fact that I'd again ventured out pants-less.

"Uhhh," I stammered.

"C'mon in!" he fairly chirped.

The food was weird. It was all tofu this and soy beans that, and they put a handful of grass on everything.

The waiter kept sucking on a straw, asking me over and over if I'd like a milkshake, or maybe a nice salad. He was very persistent!

He seemed a bit disappointed when I got up to leave, but his mood instantly brightened when we went outside.

"Oh, that's right! It's Tuesday!" he said, standing and clapping to himself.

He looked a lot like Shirley Temple.

Anyway, it seemed the locals were celebrating something. The streets were closed, and people were everywhere...







Unfortunately, none of the people in the two hundred and thirty six windchime stores in the immediate four block vicinity had ever heard of any m2.

Bummer.

Still, I forged ahead. I rolled up to the one place that would know for certain if m2 had ever lived in the area...



I wanted to speak to the person in charge of their records, and I was just about to go inside and ask around, when this person came rolling up beside me...



"Nice chaps. Ugly balls," he said.

I told him what I was looking for, and he held out a big, meaty paw and said, "Pleased to meet you. Name's Dick. I'm the Principal here."

I told him why I was there, and with a wink he brought me inside, to the records department.

"We're not a religious school, but we like to call this our RECTory," he said.

Odd, to see a fifty five year old man blushing and giggling.

Anyway, I told him m2's age, and the whole Al Bundy story.

He searched through their old admissions and transcripts records, until finally he said, "Aha. Here he is. Looks like he did attend school here, at least for one semester. Says here that when he was a freshman he tried out for the wrestling team, but he got kicked off the team."

"Does it say why?" I asked.

"Yeah, it says he refused to remove his singlet, even to go to class, and by the end of the semester he wouldn't leave the showers at all. He was given multiple warnings about harassing the other boys."

"Harassing them, how?"

"Stripping down naked and hiding in their lockers, shit like that. We finally had to expel him from school."

"So he was only here for one semester, as a freshman?"

"Yep."

"He never starred for your football team?"

"Nope."

"Does it say anything about a forwarding address? What'd he do, after he left Terra Linda?"

"There's a footnote here, says we sent his transcripts off to New Jersey."

"New Jersey?"

"Yeah, New Jersey. Hoboken High. Says we still get angry, threatening letters from this guy, with a Jersey postmark. Sounds like a real asshole."

I thanked the man, and headed out.

Nothing to see here. Wasted trip. m2 had obviously lied to me.

Pointing my headlights south...okay, south by southeast, to be completely, anally precise...I decided to take a run down to San Luis Obispo, to see my old pal TVO.

When I arrived at TVO's place, it was apparent he was entertaining guests. Standing outside his apartment door, I could hear Huey Lewis & The News blaring...

"Kirk?" I called, ringing the doorbell.



No answer.

"Woah!" I yelled, when suddenly his door burst open. A half naked blonde ran screaming right past me, with TVO in hot pursuit!



Later, TVO and I went out for a nice dinner. He seemed reticent to talk about the blonde, and I didn't want to push it.

I was just coming back from the shitter when I spotted TVO and a couple of his lawyer buddies, pontificating about women...



After dinner, TVO was once again telling me all about how he likes to do what he calls "good works."

"I like to reach out to the homeless, the disenfranchised, the underprivileged of my town. It's just...it's just who I am. We all need to give back," he said.

I caught this touching moment on film, when TVO practiced what he preached...



The dog, that was too much.

Despite the wonderful dinner and his promise to get me my own set of really cool business cards, I just couldn't deal with this malevolent freak.

I was out of there. I was through. I couldn't take another moment of seeing the ugliness of my fellow man.

The decision made, I left Mason Dixon in the parking lot of a fish taco stand.

I went to the nearest Rite-Aid, where I bought a pack of Number 2 pencils and a bottle of bleach. I then went to the nearest Motel 6, where I sat down by the pool, my feet dangling in the water.

"Mister, what are you doing?" came a voice.

I turned around, to see a fugly little Pakistani kid.

"Here, kid, you can have this," I said, throwing him my camera.

I then proceeded to repeatedly stab myself in the eyes with the pencils. When I was sure I'd reduced them to little more than crimson ribbons of pulpy flesh I blindly reached for the cap on the bottle of bleach.

With a cry of lasting satisfaction, I emptied the contents of that bottle into my palpitating skull.

The next thing I could recall was a disembodied voice, speaking to me...

"Sir, we found you floating face down in the pool. You have no I.D. though. Can you tell us who you are, and what happened?"

I knew my riding days were over. So, too, my PET posting days.

Looking up, but seeing nothing, since I had no goddamn eyes, I thought to myself, "You stole my wallet too. Oh, you little Paki cunt..."

The End

MgoBlue-LightSpecial wrote:

Wow...just...

She used to have a site but it looks like it's down now.
http://www.puredee.com

Don't ask me why I know that...


RACK Van...

'Spray, nope, not at all.

Pretty much, you can blame this on R-Jack. He wrote me a couple days ago, about a project idea of his. He also mentioned something in one of the other threads about my needing to do something creative.

We decided to have him do his project idea, entirely on his own. If he does it, it'll be good.

We didn't talk about this thread idea but after talking to him I decided to go ahead and come up with something too. This was the result.

The most difficult thing was your section. There was one crazy video I wanted for you, but I just couldn't locate it. I know I'll stumble on it again, in a day or so, but when I really needed it I just couldn't find it. I looked for about forty five minutes, and it was while searching for that other video that I stumbled onto your "Puppet Bloodbath" video.

The other video was just truly sick. You would've loved it.

Van wrote: I looked for about forty five minutes

You are kinda lost without college football.

Noooooooooo.

It can't end in slo.

SS must mount up, head south to visit with all the so/lo cal trolls, take a shit in mikey's hot tub, then turn east. He could stop in and visit your old girl friend in albuquerque.

Not figure out a way to restore sam's sight and finish this fukkin' thing, dammit.

The Seer wrote:You are kinda lost without college football.

Very.

Still, once I begin surfing around youtube for music videos, I can become easily distracted.

You know how it is. You start off looking for one thing, but then some other thing pops up that you haven't seen before, or that you haven't seen in years, and then another...and another...

Before you know it, there goes an hour, or four.

'Spray would've really appreciated that video I was searching for, too, so I really wanted to find it.

smackaholic wrote:Noooooooooo.

It can't end in slo.

Dude is fuggen BLIND now, and doubtless someone jacked Mason Dixon too!

You heartless bastard. What, do you want him to hitch his way around the country now? Maybe become a rail bum?

SS must mount up, head south to visit with all the so/lo cal trolls,

The idea of Sam visitng trev, who was in the process of feting mvscal for the weekend, that one did cross my mind.

take a shit in mikey's hot tub, then turn east.

Dude's blind now. He'd probably shit in Mikey's aquarium.

He could stop in and visit your old girl friend in albuquerque.

I won't lie, I thought about it. It was going to involve Sam trying to avoid Albuquerque on his way back, only to be inexorably sucked in by some malevolent black hole of negativity.

I finally decided, nah, she's not here anymore, so that wouldn't be cool.

Not figure out a way to restore sam's sight and finish this fukkin' thing, dammit.

The only other person I really still had Sam visiting was Jsc, in New Orleans.

That was going to be a real tear jerker.

In the end, what can I say? Sam is a gentle soul; a guy who loves his fellow man. Too much of TVO's sheer evil simply broke Sam's will to continue...

One other admission: I forgot something. In the Dins section I'd meant to include a long bit where Dins takes Sam with him to work. Dins being Dins, his work for the day was going to include being an ice trucker in Alaska, a judo fighter in Japan, a Chippendale's dancer touring Oz, an architect who'd been commisioned to come up with a prettier replacement for the Eiffel Tower, etc...

D-

TVO, what kept it from getting an F?

Van wrote:TVO, what kept it from getting an F?

smackie, so, what are you trying to say?



In all seriousness, it doesn't matter what else was included in this thread, 'cause this pic...



...of Dins hogging at closing time is fucking epic.



(The fact that he's flipping us off in acknowledgement of his shame, it absolutely makes the pic. That pic was one helluva "get" by me, if I do say so myself. That is a perfect hogging pic.)

Dins needs to slap a pancake on dude's head and then make that pic his permanent avatar.

At least she won't have to ask for the keys.

Van wrote:TVO, what kept it from getting an F?

You got 61 points for effort.

TVO, if this was your idea of a D- then it'd be really cool to see you do something better. Should be easy, right?

Van wrote:TVO, if this was your idea of a D- then it'd be really cool to see you do something better. Should be easy, right?

I'm pretty sure he'd come up a little short. No way could he stand up to the competition. Your effort would no doubtedly end up being head and shoulders above TVO.

Nice PET, Sam/Van. A thousand thank-yous for bypassing God's Country.

Van wrote:TVO, if this was your idea of a D- then it'd be really cool to see you do something better. Should be easy, right?

When I put in the effort it was always better, yes.

Indy, see, there you go again, shortchanging TVO. For all you know his effort might've come up short in humor, but with no lack of elevating the human spirit.

Goobs, that was another bit of a screw up. After Sam left Detroit he was supposed to roll through God's Country, where he was to meet up with you and Stanley, doing body shots together in a MadTown hostelry.

Knowing what I had planned for him though, with the 'shrooms and the Injun pics, I immediately got to surfing around, looking for those pics. By the time I found something close to what I was looking for I'd forgotten to do the bit with you and Pikkkle.

I finally remembered it again, too late; about the same time I remembered the missing "Dins's Day At Work" segment.

Moving Sale wrote:

Van wrote:TVO, if this was your idea of a D- then it'd be really cool to see you do something better. Should be easy, right?

When I put in the effort it was always better, yes.

Link?

Something archived, perhaps?

You've been here how many years, and I can't recall a single creative thing you've ever attempted here; besides criticizing, calling people names and generally just nitpicking everything you see.

Moving Sale wrote:

Van wrote:TVO, if this was your idea of a D- then it'd be really cool to see you do something better. Should be easy, right?

When I put in the effort it was always better, yes.

You are much diminished in stature - we know this...or at least, we hear you squeaking about it from our ankles.

RACK Randy Newman.

Van wrote:Something archived, perhaps?

Perhaps, but it was so long ago I have no idea where it is.

You've been here how many years, and I can't recall a single creative thing you've ever attempted here; besides criticizing, calling people names and generally just nitpicking everything you see.

If by nitpicking you mean handing you your ass anytime I've felt like it then yes it's nitpicking.

Now quit bitching about your grade and post something worthwhile for once.

PSUFAN wrote: You are much diminished in stature.

God you are a pathetic fuck.

Please make it to the 4th grade before you post again.

Moving Sale wrote:

PSUFAN wrote: You are much diminished in stature.

God you are a pathetic fuck.

Please make it to the 4th grade before you post again.

Oh yes, 4th grade. Isn't that where you learn to spell vapid?

TVO, there's a dead tree out there somewhere, and it'd like to have a word with you. It'd like to remind you that you've gotten your ass kicked nearly every time you've ever posted.

You never win a debate. You spin, and you ask diverting questions. You never offer anything of substance, nor any original thought. Your only purpose is to irritate.

You're a fucking barnacle, TVO.

You've never created a decent thread. Ever. Mainly, because you're not the least but funny, but also because you're too much of a chicken shit to ever offer up anything original.

You've never had anything archived. Threads where people make fun of you have been archived, but that's as close as you've come. Your next quality original idea will be your first.

In any board wide poll where people are asked to name our most reliably laughable 'tards, hey, guess which names will always garner the most votes..

PIKKKLE
m2
SoCalTrn
FUBU
Wolfman
YOU!

You're a first ballot entrant into the Suck H.O.F. You're on our Mount Rushmore Of Suck.

Here's the problem, though...

Pikkle is a troll. Straight up. He lives for derision.

m2 is a troll, whose handler is insane.

SoCalTrjn posts strictly for trolling effect.

FUBU is a cock addled spammer, and he'll soon be banned.

Wolfman is humor addled, and he's in the advanced stages of Alzhiemer's.

You? You're not a troll. This is really who you are: a miserable, anal, tinfoil hat wearing humorless fishwife. Your sole role is to nitpick and bitch, poorly, in butchered English.

You're universally loathed. You're not feared. You're not respected. You're simply loathed. You've become a boardwide punchline, nothing more.

You've become a boardwide punchline

Better aim low. Dude is making fire hydrants appear to tower.

Van wrote:
You've never created a decent thread. Ever. Mainly, because you're not the least but funny, but also because you're too much of a chicken shit to ever offer up anything original.

You've never had anything archived. Threads where people make fun of you have been archived, but that's as close as you've come. Your next quality original idea will be your first.

I finally cleaned out my old Iomega Zip discs and found some "original" TVO/Elvis shit.
Back in the day at SC (in an attempt to gain some semblence of cred) he posted some blonde with his little elfen self in a few positions.
He also put up a nudie of some chick (sans head) with "rack the trolls" written on her.
I may throw them up, or just throw up later

KC Scott, yeah, I remember those. I guess that must be his idea of quality posting, and how long ago was that?

Van wrote:
m2 is a troll, whose handler is insane.

1st Santa, then the toothfairy, then Sasquatch, then Bradhusker.....

I refuse to believe there is no m2ool

Van wrote:KC Scott, yeah, I remember those. I guess that must be his idea of quality posting, and how long ago was that?

I dunno, had to be back in 2000/01 time period - before webdog pulled the plug on SC3.
It was back when people used to run funny trolls, have troll stops, pic wytch shit and no one except inky took it too seriously and then the place burned down.

TVO even went to one of the Troll stops - and from what I remember, no one seemed to point him out as particularly stupid or obnoxious - just short. What happened to him? Dunno. He just seemed to kinda loose it over the years and became the angry lib version of MVS - sans the funny. Maybe life dealt him some bad cards and these boards were the only place he could vent it.

Yep, I remember the troll stop pics of TVO, with ppanther and a few others. I could be wrong but wasn't that the troll stop with Freeze and Blondiebabe and all the hotel drama?

He also had a trip to Blighty, where he hung out with Euroclone.

In any case, he was never the most creative or funny poster, but he didn't used to be nothing but a barnacle, like he is now.

He also wasn't a lawyer then, either.

Pretty sure his transformation into a total douche on these boards coincides with his ego raging out of control, after he passed the bar.

KC Scott wrote:TVO even went to one of the Troll stops - and from what I remember, no one seemed to point him out as particularly stupid or obnoxious

I hung out with him at SoCal and Fresneck trollstops, and while I won't pretend that I got to know him well after spending relatively short periods of time with him, he was cool to me and the others there. I drove him from LA to Santa Barbara after he let me, Harsh, and Logonfag crash in his room at the Ritz-Carlton in Pasadena, and he seemed to be a righteous cat. He used to be one of the better wytches on the board, too. I think it was he who pointed out the unfortunate leavings in PUSFAN's drawers, too, if I'm not mistaken. That's gotta count for something.